MY SOUL IS AN EMPTY CAROUSEL AT SUNSET
Heart beating, Rhoswen didn't know what to expect from the girls. Raum was inconsequential - they had already shared words both hot and cold, their feud was irrelevant here. But Freya and Mila? They were new territory for the Solterran girl; a year or more they had spent apart by her own hand. She didn't expect much, why should she - Rhoswen knew that in a house built from the ground up by secrecy and kinship, her desertion was an affliction they would not soon forget. She didn't blame Night Court for not understanding, not so much anymore at least; the girl of hellfire and whitelit daisies felt simply resigned to their contention and disparaging tongues. It had not happened in their lifetimes before, so the abdication and leave of a high-ranking merchant's daughter had rattled and jarred against their dark flashing eyes.
Time moved nonchalantly, dragging its feet - digging ancient heels into the stone beneath their feet. Rhoswen took advantage of this seemingly lethargic lapse of the hour to observe the Crows' reactions. Freya's frown tugged at the frayed edge of her heart, though with steel and chainmail she refuses to let it sink downward - instead she merely returns the cerulean woman's gaze, seemingly open and unabashed. Too long had she lived in shame; there was no use hiding the truth now. Freya's words glide smoothly, a knife against the air, and Rhoswen might have retaliated once, now she only shrugs. Let her have that one barb. Just the one. She glanced, then, to Mila - and was startled, instantly, by the uncorrupted grin roaring across her beautiful face. Blonde hair dancing as she moves, the youngster closes the space between them and Rhos is suddenly suffused with something old, something familiar. Colour spreads vibrantly through her chest until it rises into a smile upon her own silver-red lips.
Before either of them can speak, the atmosphere is perforated by the scent and sound of a Solterran man of whom Rhoswen knew very little. His name dangles just out of reach, taunting her, until she catches it with sharp wolven teeth: Torstein. It would have been nigh upon impossible to forget a beast such as the Day Courtian Warden, with his skyscraping stature and uniquely-featured appearance. Where others might have been morbidly perturbed by his chest, Rhoswen was... hungrily curious, and then it was forgotten. What a crowd they were - standing in the halls of Novus' great cathedral, filling up the house with their heat and their ego. Rhos offers the Warden a brief, transparent smile in welcome - knowing quite how bizarre the aforementioned scene must appear to him, and equally wishing not to draw untoward attention to herself or Raum. Raum - who had altered himself so fluidly in the blink of an eye.
"Well Solis' isn't going to worship himself, now, is he?" The redhead had been silent until now, and as her playfully vulpine tones poured toward Torstein, she took a moment to glance at Raum once more, her gaze utterly unreadable. All the better for it too. She watches as the silver man speaks, playing the perfect part, and nobody notices the minute hitching of her chest as he does so. "And I am Rhoswen." Who knew what the Warden had seen from the shadows...
The night is embodied and transforms once more, shadows twisting to let through yet another figure, this one unknown and unidentifiable. The woman was quite striking, all lavender and moondust, but the roughness in her eyes and voice felt caustic against the stiff air surrounding the group. Voices clattered against each other as Freya and Mila reeled against the stranger, of whom apparently belonged to Denocte. Rhoswen could smell the smoke, the jasmine, the faded oak and campfire: a place she'd once called home. Usually an incandescent participant, the desert maiden allows herself to assume the role of a nocuous spectator - watching from beneath heavy lids and bloodied-sunset curls - a dark smile swelling at the corners of her mouth. Her ashen gaze flits toward Torstein and Raum, her eyes rolling to the roof before turning back toward the newest addition.
"I don't know who you are, but I highly doubt Reich gave such an order. In any case - we don't bite that hard, hunny."
@freya @Raum @mila @Torstein @Aislinn this took me about five hours to write lmao
